Impulse Control
by intensedreams
Summary: The endless memories of gut churning rage and dark deeds. Murder, theft, gratuitous violence, rape, torture, blood – so much blood – the light dimming from a thousand eyes and cries of fear and pain clamouring inside Emma's skull. Not all dark ones had been as… restrained… as Gold.


Toying with the idea of Jealous!Dark!Emma since I quite clearly see jealousy sometimes from her where RH is involved (what was that GLARE in the mansion at the start of the finale?) Also toying with the idea that with the powers of the dark one comes the memories of the dark ones.  
I have no beta, mistakes are my own (tell me if theres anything glaringly obvious i've missed please!)

* * *

Emma perched on the arm of the sofa in the corner of the room, boots digging into the upholstery, back leaning against the wall. She bit her nails, she fidgeted. She tried breathing in for six and out for eight. That seemed to help. Tried to distract herself with mindless daydreams.

Anything.

Anything was better than paying attention to the roiling black building up inside her. The endless memories of gut churning rage and dark deeds. Murder, theft, gratuitous violence, rape, torture, blood – so much blood – the light dimming from a thousand eyes and cries of fear and pain clamouring inside Emma's skull. Not all dark ones had been as… restrained… as Gold.

She slumped forward to rest her head on her fists and her elbows on her knees, eyes closed.

He had never intimated that he had all… _this…_ inside him. Never indicated that the memories of hundreds of years of other dark ones kept him company at all times. Never flinched at the impulses that having this ugly mess seeping through her veins were giving her.

In for six.

Out for eight.

Her eyes settled on Regina – the only other occupant of the room. The dark hair of the other woman swept to one side as she leant over the desk, her back slightly curved. Her neck – _oh god! Her neck_ – bare and smooth and inviting Emma's lips and tongue and teeth.

Emma clenched her fists and bit her lip.

She had a problem. She had a real problem.

She remembered the lurching clarity as she surged forward with the blade. The startling ease with which she made the decision to take on the burden of darkness to save the other woman. They had given and taken so much from each other, and Emma had acted on instinct to protect what she cared about – _who_ she cared about. She behaved how people thought she should act with Hook, but behaved how she felt she should act with Regina.

She loved the other woman. That was the realisation that thundered through her as the black tendrils of pain and power tangled their way around her, _into_ her. The sliding into place of a thousand different things that now in retrospect made her want to slap her forehead.

In for six.

Out for eight.

The realisation was fine, Emma didn't want to bolt, she didn't want to run.

She wanted to _have_. And that was where the problem lay because now? Now with this black swirling lust inside?

It was taking _everything_ Emma had to stay seated, head on hands, and not trail her fingertips up that slender neck and into that dark hair. Everything to keep her feet firmly on the sofa cushion and not planted firmly behind Regina as she pulled the other woman up and pushed her forcibly onto that desk, flinging the chair away from between them. Everything to keep her teeth firmly latched onto her lip and not the brunettes shoulder.

In for six.

Out for eight.

Emma looked up at the ceiling in supplication, the voices inside cackling.

 _Why don't you…_

Because that is not you!

She clasped her hands together tightly, knee bouncing. She could just leave the room. That would be the obvious answer.

Apart from the part where her family, everyone really, looked at her nervously. She couldn't blame them, couldn't reasonably be angry except that she was. She was very angry. Her parents tried _so hard_ , sneered the voices. They tried so hard to hide it. But they were both clear as day in their anxiety, their split second hesitation before interacting with her. The imperceptible blanching before their eyes crinkled and they smiled for her. Henry – Bless him – he had no fear, only the staunch faith in her that he always had. He would fling his arms around her carelessly and rest his head on her shoulder.

It was Emma's fear that kept her away from him, not his.

Aside from him, Regina was the only one who did not flinch. Who didn't have to go through that brief second of bracing themselves before greeting her. Who Emma didn't have to worry about. Who didn't worry about Emma.

Regina had studiously been researching ways to separate Emma from the Dark One, cooping herself up in the study in the mansion.

Emma let her eyes wander over the other woman again.

In for six.

Out for eight.

That exposed neck.

The slope of her shoulder.

Her arm resting comfortably on the desk top, fingers toying with the corner of a page.

The dagger placed next to her hand.

That was why neither of them was afraid.

It was like the roar of a wave that almost deafened Emma – the sheer rage that burned in her chest and in between her ears. Made her fingernails dig into her palms. Made her tremble.

Regina paused and leaned away from the desk, hand going to the back of her neck. A moan escaped her as she stretched the kinks out her back. A moan that made Emma shudder and squeeze her thighs together and grit her teeth.

Regina should make noises of satisfaction like that more often. Emma could make her. Would make her.

 _Fuckfuckfuck_

"Emma…" The blonde startled as her name broke her out of that insidious train of thought.

Tired brown eyes gazed down at her. She hadn't noticed Regina getting up and coming over to stand next to the sofa. A hand settled firmly on her tense shoulder.

"Are you ok?" Regina's words were soft and her eyes softer.

 _Do NOT look at me like that woman_

Emma swallowed and tried not to react to the violent images flashing through her minds eye right now. Regina on her back, Emma pulling her knees apart roughly and her body forcing its way between them – hands scrabbling to hold the older woman's own against the carpet.

Regina crouched and ran her hand from Emma's shoulder to her white knuckled fists.

Emma furiously ripping cloth to touch and taste smooth warm skin, dark hair being thrown back as Regina arched her back, welcoming her. Breathy moans of _more_ and _oh's_ and the sibiliant hiss of _yesss._ Shared, _hot_ breaths of air and Emma swallowing the gasps and cries of delight of a woman writhing and clawing at her back. Fucking Regina… fingers buried deep inside wet clenching muscles again and again and –

"Emma!" Her nostrils flared at the lower, serious tone of the woman now leaning closer, hand still on hers.

In for six.

Out for eight.

"You," Emma forced out, all her muscles tensing, her ribs hurting from the effort to keep still, "need to get _away_ from me."

The black inside cackled rapturously and the tide of intoxicating arousal spilled down her insides.

 _You could have her, she would say yes._

Regina's brow furrowed as her eyes flicked discerningly over Emma's strained features.

"What is it Em-"

"Regina, there you are. Are you ready to go, Roland has been asking for you."

 _MINE_

All Emma knew was the satisfying crunch of cartilage and the pain radiating up her arm.

Robin was on the floor clutching his nose, accusing eyes directed at her in surprise.

" _You_ are _not_ worthy _!"_ the words seethed from between her teeth.

Vicious glee bubbled up her throat and she laughed at the _fear_ as she dropped to sit astride his torso, fist raised again, something inside her relaxing, unfurling.

"Dark one! Stop."

Emma growled as her body stopped against her ardent wishes, tense and straining as she fought with every fibre of her being, new and old to do what she wanted to so dearly do. She glared down at the man underneath her. The supposed "soul mate" of Regina. The one that everyone and their aunty had been bandying terms like "true love" around like it was a dime a dozen. The manly man that Regina had been pursuing single-mindedly and that Emma had like a loyal puppy helped her to find.

 _She is not for him!_

"Up!" The imperious command from a queen, barked with practiced ease. Emma rose to her feet and stepped away in one smooth motion. Her arm relaxing in spite of everything inside her shouting to _hurt snap kill take._

She shuddered with revulsion at herself, eyes averting from the woman with the blade and the prone man.

Emma returned to the sofa, pacing in front of it.

In for six.

Out for eight.

Tried to ignore the whispered words of "are you ok?", "go to the hospital" and "I'm not leaving you here with _that!_ " Emma turned with bared teeth at that last word, stalking back towards the impudent man, fist tightening. Regina stepped between them, hand up and palm facing the snarling blonde. "Stay there, Emma." And she obliged, but only because her _queen_ asked, only because those dark eyes asked.

Regina turned and firmly told Robin to leave, grabbed his arm and walked towards the door. Emma watched every step, every movement with narrowed eyes and baited breath. Being alone with her was ramping up her anxiety and her pleasure. The older woman shut the door with a click and leaned against it with a hand, head lowered.

Emma was _there_ behind herin a second and Regina stiffened.

"Regina…" The blonde purred leaning closer to feel the heat radiating off the other woman, inhaling her scent like a drug addict. Her hands found the other woman's hips before she really knew what she was doing and before she could hurl vitriol at herself to just _stop._ Fingers traced patterns gently on the black material, ghosts of the firm hold that Emma was on a knifes edge about exerting. "He is no good," she whispered, her voice shaking from the effort not to scream this. She struggled to keep everything small, quiet, slow. Abdominal muscles and her back quivering from the effort to not force and take.

 _But you could and she couldn't stop you._

 _She would like it._

 _You can have her._

 _You want her._

 _So take her._

Emma's mouth was awash with saliva, it leaking down her canines as she envisioned sinking them into the join between neck and shoulder, imagined the gasp of pleasure and the hand reaching back to plunge into her hair.

Imagined how easy it would be to pick the darker woman up, to spread her open, ruined and panting on the desk top.

Her tongue traced the edge of her teeth at the thought of fucking Regina with her mouth, thighs quivering, cries of pleasure her soundtrack.

Emma groaned and tightened her fingers around Regina's hips, the blonde shifting her balance from leg to leg as she fought the intoxicating impulse to cross that uncrossable line.

"Emma." Again it was a low tone, but it was the voice that echoed through Emma's very _being_. And Emma wanted to hear it every day of her god damned life.

In for six.

Out for eight.

"Not like this."

Oh thank god.

Emma's body relaxed, a sigh of relief, hands dropping to her sides. She closed her eyes, breathing in the other woman.

 _TAKE HER_

She kept her eyes closed as she felt Regina turn, the other woman letting out an audible breath as well. Small warm hands cupped her cheeks, pulling her down slightly. Regina pressed her lips to Emma's forehead, the blonde's eyes popping open in confusion. "Not like this," she reiterated. "Not as _this_." She indicated, sweeping her eyes down and back up to meet Emma's eyes. She brushed her thumbs along Emma's cheekbones, nodding slightly before pulling back. The other woman's hand went back to the hilt of the dagger poking through her belt, fingers stroking it contemplatively.

 _Possessively._

"Back to work," Regina husked with a quirk of her lips before heading back to the desk and sitting once more.

Emma stayed, staring at the door, tracing the grain of the wood.

She could cry.

She could laugh.

She could do nothing but wait and trust in the brunette's now single-minded pursuit of a solution.

Emma turned and returned to her perch on the sofa arm, eyes returning to Regina's back. Following the hand that raised to flick hair over her shoulder and idly smooth down that neck.

That neck.

In for six.

Out for eight.


End file.
